Saturday, April 10, 2010

Bewildered and Lost

All day I think about it, then at night I say it. Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing? I have no idea. My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that, and I intend to end up there. ~Rumi

     My brother is the epitome of “don’t sweat the small stuff.” I actually do not think he has a blood pressure reading. It is not that he doesn’t care about stuff. He is very sensitive, he just, somehow, always manages to go with the flow. Me? Let’s just say we’re polar opposites.
     My brother dearly loves to walk the land, to be in the woods. He knows every square inch of the land he walks. One of my favorite lines from my brother was during a visit home.  My Dad, a friend of mine and I decided we would go walk the land. My brother called that night to see how it went. I went on and on about how beautiful it was. I had even brought home a rock to remind me of the land and the time there. I told him we walked so long we had to stop and sit at the little creek bridge for a while. There was silence. “Beth, there is no bridge on the land.” Angst! We had gotten lost and my rock wasn’t even from ‘the land.’ In his dearest big brother southern voice, he corrected me, not ‘lost’ just ‘bewildered.’
     Now, to appreciate what I’m about to say, you have to understand that my work involves zooming through data and turning it into information. I can take the most complex problems and analyses at work and purée them into their very essence. But put me in the paper bag of life, give me directions, ask me to do simple things like feed myself non boxed no cook food or to remember to do something, and I’m just goofy. Sometimes I think my friends enjoy watching the hour glass spin on my face and the little message “program not responding, please wait.” That’s me, and I’m ok with that. It’s a fun natural kind of dorkiness.
     When it comes to looking at life, the heart, its paths and our callings, I quickly disrobe the heavy armor of numbers and spreadsheets and the message of the hour glass. In this world there is no north or south, lefts and rights, boil versus broil nor endless meeting reminders. Here one just sits. ‘Sitting’ doesn’t mean inactivity, inertia or passivity. Sitting means being present and fully alive to your heart, your senses, the beauty and awe of this world and each other, as we are, right now- ‘simply me.’ Sitting means I do need to have it all figured out nor a map with detailed instructions. It is a journey not an arrival gate number.
     It matters not that the rock isn’t from my land. Where I am, where I am standing, where my heart is, is my land. The rock is perfect and complete, as it is and from whence it came. When I start feeling lost, I tend to hold it ever so tightly in a fist of anger. I confess a desire, sometimes, to use it as a weapon. It is when I stop, listen to my heart, and softly hold the rock without thought of what it means or tomorrow, that I understand the gentle difference between bewildered and lost. You must admit, you just can’t say bewildered without a smile. And a path that smiles is never lost. Just ask your heart.